Doctor Who Divergence: Prologue
by Mobius64
Summary: Theta Sigma's life is about to change. Forever. The timeline of the Doctor as we know him is completely changed, and we plunge into this new universe to face new monsters and see new places. This is a Divergence. Check out our blog for more information. There's not much more, mind you.


"This is outrageous!"

The man who had cried out emphasised his words by slamming a fist onto the narrow bench in front of him. Any eyes in the council chamber that hadn't already been focused on the man swivelled now in his direction as he stood trembling with rage.

"You have heard our decision, Councilman Theta. We will not revoke our non-interference policy." The drawling reply came from the centre of three figures who sat at the base of a large collection of rounded benches, each filled with decorated councilmen and women. The Lord President drew abstract figures on the table in front of him with a gloved fingertip, his white robes and ornamental sash glinting in the cold light of the Panopticon, either inputing details into a computer or attempting to relieve himself of the boredom he found in Councilman Theta's objections. He did not deign to glance in Councilman Theta's direction as the older man glared down at him, eyes bulging in their sockets.

"How can you tell me that you would let danger grow in the universe and not use our great power to do anything about it‽" the Councilman shouted, gaining a few roaring shouts of approval from other council members close by, but the vast majority of the chamber remaining silent.

"We are protected against all threats, Councilman, and we have no need, desire, or right to interfere with the matters of lesser civilisations. Now, return to your seat!" the Lord President shouted, his hand snapping from its drawings and curling into a fist.

There were no cries of support for the Lord President and his Inner Council, but no-one dared speak out against him either, and a deathly silence fell slowly over the chamber room.

Councilman Theta unravelled his fist and flicked his now open hand in disgust, his orange robes flying out like display of his contempt for the President, and he sat back down. Down below, the Inner Council turned to other matters, lesser matters, like district elections, TARDIS decommission, and more laws preventing any Time Lord from even daring to meddle in the affairs of the outer universe.

"You can't keep doing this," whispered the dark haired man beside Theta, "They will eventually take some kind of action against you, against all of us."

"I know, Koschei, but I also can't stand by while we are further isolated from the rest of the universe," Theta replied, his old eyes still burning with rage.

He looked at Koschei, who sat in the orange and scarlet robes of the Prydonian Chapter, much like Theta was himself, although born into different Houses. Koschei's black, slicked back hair and trimmed beard had been a favourite look of his throughout most of his regenerations, and he rarely seemed to enjoy anything else. He looked young, younger than Theta looked, although they were the same age. Theta had been more careful with using his regenerations than his friend had, and Theta wore the grey hair and wrinkled skin of age.

"Oh, Theta," sighed Koschei, addressing his friend by his Academy nickname; Theta had little desire to go by anything else. "I don't think even the Deca can change the course Gallifrey has chose now. Not by these means, any way."

"But we must keep trying!"

"And onto the next article of business," called the Chancellor from the Inner Council's table. She was a cold, lonely woman. Her shadow was thin and long against the light, and her spidery hands clasped in front of her. She was generally disliked by much of the younger generation for her harsh banning and outlawing of activities deemed 'dangerous to the time streams', but she was equally despised by a minority of elders, who all suspected that she had not gained her office by peaceful means. "Proposal 2121, submitted by the Chancellor and supported by the Inner Council: The outlawing of the teaching of foreign and alien civilisations."

A wave of shouting and outcry erupted from the assembled council, Theta and Koschei both standing to hurl their own disapprovals at the Inner Council.

"Clearly the Inner Council have lost their minds!" jeered Magnus, another of Theta's closet friends and allies. Magnus was a close childhood friend of Koschei and Theta, and would often explore the lands of their respective Houses. It was unusual for the children of the different houses, even within the same chapter, would interact as closely as these three did. But these three had always broken the mold.

Magnus too had the look of a younger man than Theta, dark hair and skin not yet marked with age. With a clever mind and silver tongue, Magnus was an easy man to like, and was arguably the leader of the three friends.

"This infringes of everything the Time Lords should be standing for!" Ushas called, leaning over the table before her. Soon all of the Deca, ten of some of the youngest council members and all friends of Theta, were standing and tossing insults and arguments down to the Inner Council. Their voices were the loudest of all the chorus, and their words rose above those of the other council members.

The Deca began as just Magnus, Koschei and Theta, a small group of friends, thick as thieves, at the Academy. But over the centuries, as more friends began to swell their number, it had evolved into something not too dissimilar to a political party all of its own, becoming some what of a rouge element in the Council, which was divided into seperate Chapters that often competed against each other. The Deca had members from across the entire spectrum of the Chapters, and this angered many of the Chapter and House leaders.

"Silence!" demanded the Lord President, slamming the Staff of Rassilon on the floor, the ceremonial stick clutched in his wizened, gloved hand. "The council will come to order!" The hall fell silent at his words, somehow fearful of the old man down below.

"This motion if not up for discussion, Councillors," calmly said the Chancellor, her cold voice easily drifting over the murmurs of disapproval that still emanated from various corners of the Panopticon, "It is to be acted with immediate effect and without objection!" More shouts burst from the ranks of dusty old senators, many fearful that their Gallifrey was on a road that would not easily be diverted, but most were offended that no-one asked for their opinion on the matter.

The Chancellor shouted over all of them, her voice peaking unusually high for her ordinarily calm tone "The council is adjourned!"

The Inner Council were the first to leave, flanked by the Chancellery Guards, as they made their way to the inner chamber, all followed by a hailstorm of drowned insults and ignored rebuttals. In a fit of rage, Theta pushed past his fellow councillors as he fought to leave the room, a sickly anger bubbling in his stomach. Koschei and the rest of his friends followed suit, each of their colourful robes billowing as they left the hall and made for the streets of the Capitol.

The Lord President sat at the head of a table in a darkened room, his ceremonial robes pooling at the feet of the chair he sat in. The chair was more a throne, a comfortable platform from which he would rule Gallifrey and her citizens with ease. Flanking the sides of the table were the Castellan, head of the Chancellery Guard and protection of Gallifrey; the Lady Chancellor, Headmistress of the Time Lord Academy and the leading minister of Government affairs; and the Coordinator of the Celestial Investigation Agency. The Inner Council should have usually been much greater in number, with ministers from all departments present, but times were changing for the worse on Gallifrey, and all too often did the Lord President call in the council with only these members.

"Something must be done to rid us of that infernal renegade and his cohort of political upstarts," spat the Castellan. He had a personal distaste for Theta, and the Deca as a whole, for their rebellious nature, their general lack of obedience to the laws of Gallifrey, and their constant questioning of the government.

"I am aware, Castellan," said the Lord President wearily. He had grown tired with age and the powers of his office weighed heavily upon him. Despite the Time Lords' policy for non-interference, leading one of the most powerful races in the universe was no easy task, despite how hard he would try to tip the delicate matters onto the Lady Chancellor's hands, and she would lap them up with relish.

"Then may I suggest you just go in and arrest them," came the oily voice of the Coordinator. A small, cunningly minded, dangerous little man, the Coordinator was the direct commander of the Agency, one of the few Departments in Gallifrey's Government that was allowed to interact with the time lines and the species beyond the domed cities of the planet.

"Despite what you may think, Coordinator, we cannot arrest whomever we like with no reason," replied the Castellan. The Coordinator was not thought too highly of by the Castellan, though for different reasons than those he had for the Deca. The Agency was a dangerous organisation, at least in the eyes of the Castellan and his Guard. Interfering in Time and Space in the manner that they did was not becoming of a Time Lord, and the corpses that would mysteriously appear on the streets of the Capitol at night made his job not an easy task. At times, the Castellan wondered if the Agency was less protecting Gallifrey's interests and more protecting those solely of the Lord President.

"If the Castellan isn't brave enough to risk his toy soldiers on a few young rebels, then I can provide more than enough agents to do the job," the Coordinator sneered as he turned towards the President, always eager to gain his favour.

"My courage should not be the subject of discussion here, Coordinator. How do you think the High Council would take it if they saw their members being hauled away to an execution? The Chancellor barely has them reigned in as it is."

"Make up false charges; forge evidence, nothing we haven't done before," said the Coordinator, as if this was all too familiar to him.

"My predecessor may have done what you describe, but I have my morals still intact!"

"Enough, Castellan, Coordinator," said the Lord President, who had been sitting quietly, listening to the two Time Lords argue, weighing his decisions. He turned to the Chancellor. "Lady Chancellor, I have often looked to you in matters of the utmost importance, your guidance leading Gallifrey as much as my own. What are your thoughts?"

"I agree with the Coordinator," her icy voice spoke without a pause for thought. She was a tall lady, thin and sharp and she had worn the position of Chancellor for many years, almost as many as the Lord President had worn his own, and she was accustomed to making decisions for him. "I need not remind you of Morbius, Lord President. If these Time Lords gain support from the students of the Academy and the High Council, they could start a revolution. This infection of the High Council must be purged before it spreads."

"Then it is settled."

"So, it is decided then?" asked Magnus, confirming what he already knew.

Around the table, the Deca were assembled and they were each nodding their heads solemnly. They all sat in Koschei's house, a large and pleasant villa, one of a few that were circled around one of the many red grass gardens in the domed Capitol of Gallifrey, one of the benefits of being a Councillor. The house contained spacious rooms, with glass windows that allowed the dying embers of the sunsets to spill in on the floor and set the occupants' features ablaze in orange light. It was, like many villas on this garden, fitted with simple wooden designs, perhaps so that those like Koschei may distance themselves from the cold metals of the Capitol's centre, thinking that comfort was often found in wood and nature. Most Time Lords however, those not a member of the Council, lived in cramped apartments in one of the many spires of the city, or in decrepit housing below the ground amongst the engines and machinery that kept the cities breathing. Ordinary Gallifreyans suffered even worse, roaming beyond the glass dome walls.

"We'll leave tonight," Koschei established, taking a sip of a brewing beverage from a cup.

"I'll collect Susan before we leave; it may be too dangerous to leave her here. Drax's TARDIS should be more than capable of getting us out of the reach of the Inner Council and the Chancellery Guards," said Theta, as he looked at each of his friends in turn.

Drax nodded, "I just refitted her myself, grew an entire new console room for her." Drax was more the pleased with his TARDIS, and seemed to spend a growing number of days locked within its confines upgrading and exploring her depths.

"The Agency on the other hand…," muttered Ushas. She knew all too well about the length the Agency's operatives would be able to reach. Despite being headquartered on perhaps one the most isolated planets in the galaxy, the Agency had no trouble operating out of Gallifrey. Ushas' own parents, who had been independently investigating the Government, had been found dead on a remote asteroid adrift beyond the galaxy's edge, their TARDIS brutalised and destroyed.

"Yes, they will be the problem," Millenia said, herself a low ranking agent within the Agency. She was confined to mainly intelligence work, rather in the field, but she still had access to many sensitive files. She had been made a Councilwoman, like many agents, to protect the interests of the Agency within the High Council. But she had long become dissatisfied with their regime. "Before we leave, I'll try to set something up, a dampener on the TARDIS registration to slow them down. It will be easy enough from my workstation."

"That should work," agreed Magnus, his knowledge of TARDIS design re-assuring him that Millenia was correct.

"Then perhaps we will need these," said Jelpax, and he picked up his bag and emptied the contents onto the table. Several metal objects clattered loudly as they bounced off each other and the wooden surface.

"Where did you get such devices?" said Theta angrily.

Magnus picked up one and examined it. "Staser, Type 2-90. Old and outdated but still… deadly. Not used by the Guards anymore."

"And with good reason! These weapons have only one setting, and that is to kill a Time Lord and prevent his regeneration cycle from initiating!"

"How is that any different from the ones they use now?" asked Jelpax. Jelpax and Theta, while being friends, had always been at odds somewhat. Jelpax was impulsive to the point of being occasionally violent and dangerous to himself and others, which was unheard of in most Time Lords. Theta, on the other hand, saw that violence generally led to more of the same, and had a personal distaste for firearms.

"Because the new Stasers have the option to stun," said Theta with an air of condescension. The whole day had frayed his patience, not just with Jelpax but with everyone and everything.

"And how often do you think they'd use it?"

"Enough!" demanded Koschei, his hands slamming against the table as he stood, his cup spilling the drink slightly. "There is no need for this arguing!"

Before anyone could say anything further, there was a heavy thud at the door of the house. The metal buckled as more thuds echoed from outside, something pounding on the surface of the door. The door quickly collapsed under the assault and revealed the booted feet of the Guards, dressed in red armour and with white capes flowing. They marched into the room, followed by the commander who was shouting loud enough for the small crowd that had gathered outside to hear.

"You have all been found guilty of High Treason against the Lord President and his Inner Council, and of plotting a rebellion to over though the elected offices of Gallifrey!" shouted the commander, raising his staser to point directly at Theta.

"We have been plotting no such thing!" cried Theta.

"By the order of the Castellan, you have all been placed under arrest."

"Jelpax, no!" cried Koschei.

Theta turned around just in time to see Jelpax dive to the table and grab one of the stasers. A fizzling burst of energy leapt from the barrel of the gun and struck the door frame, narrowly missing one of the half dozen guards that surrounded the Deca.

"You fool!" boomed Magnus's voice as he too took a weapon, if only for self defence.

"Stasers to stun!" order the commander, "Open fire!"

The room was drowned with blasts of energy, the red beams arcing across the room and scorching the walls. But that was not all, as staser bolts hit Jelpax squarely in the chest, sending him toppling to the ground. Theta felt a hand grab his arm and pull him away from the line of fire.

"Quick!" shouted Koschei as he dragged Theta down, "Out the back door!"

"We'll follow!" called Magnus, as he tipped over the table for cover. He and Mortimus each held a pistol in hand and fired blindly over the table. Mortimus was a good man, or at least he tried to be, but too often would he dance on the line of order, and fall into chaos.

Theta glanced around the room as Koschei helped his old frame down the steps to the kitchen area, and to the back door. "Unhand me, I am able to walk!"

Ushas, Drax, Millenia were able to make it up the stairs, if only just. But Theta never saw what happened to the others.

Koschei and Theta ran through the streets of the Capitol, pushing past the deep red robed Time Lords that jostled around them, all eager to view the commotion – this kind of entertainment was hard to come by for the working classes, who were mostly subjected to long working hours that extended well past most performances held in the theatres.

Sweat dripped down off Theta's brow as his body pushed itself onwards, but he was stumbling as the exertion took its toll on his aged bones and muscles. His hearts beat fast and his lungs pumped hard as his feet pounded across the stone walkways, the ceremonial robes that he still wore were violently fluttering in the wind, making him a dangerously clear target.

Koschei was far ahead now, his much younger body able to carry him farther and easier. The last thing Theta saw of his friend was Koschei shouting out a warning before everything went black.

"Theta!" shouted a disembodied voice.

Theta's vision peeled open as the thudding in his head broke him from his restless sleep. The room seemed to spin as he clutched his head and tried to pull himself up. He was in a dimly lit cell, with black walls made of slick dwarf star alloy that lined the small confines. There was a man, standing in the stately robes and headdress of the Lord Burner, generally labelled as a personal assassin of the Lord President, though his role was often more than simply that. The Lord Burner was one of the most feared individuals in all of Gallifreyan society, an individual that had the licence and power to erase people from all of time and space, so that it would appear that they had never existed.

"Braxiatel?" muttered Theta as he tried to push himself up against the cool walls of his cell.

"Listen, I know mother told me to look after you but I never thought you would do something as stupid as this!"

Irving Braxiatel was Theta's older brother. With a slim, sharp face and black, widow's peaked hair, most would never have assumed that he was the older of the two when stood next to his wizened younger sibling.

"Stupid?!" Theta said aghast, "I am no such thing!"

"Yet you are the one that is caught. Listen, we don't have much time."

"Why? What is planned, hm?"

"Your execution, dear brother. All of you, all of the Deca. Well, the ones that were caught, anyway."

"And I suppose you are the one to carry out the deed. I told you, bearing the title of Lord Burner is no honour. Who escaped your clutches?"

"Koschei stole a TARDIS, he's left Gallifrey and we can't track him. Magnus, Mortimus, Millenia and Ushas are still on the run. As for the rest…"

"They are either dead or waiting to be become so, I suppose!"

"I am afraid so…"

"And you will let it happen?"

"What can I do, Theta? Lord Burner I may be but Lord President I am not! I take orders, not give them. And how often have I told you that I do not personally kill people. I rule over all punishments handed to Time Lords."

"So you keep saying at our Othermass dinners. Oh, why are you here, hm? Let me contemplate my death in peace."

"I'm here to help you escape."

"Excuse me?"

"I am the Lord Burner, but I am still your brother, Theta."

"And what of the others?"

Braxiatel paused for a moment, his brown eyes darting away from Theta's cold gaze. "I'll try," he said non-committedly. "But there is not much I can do."

"You'll do more than that, I hope."

"Come on," said Braxiatel as he offered a hand to Theta, who took it gratefully and pulled himself up to his feet. Braxiatel walked over to one of the walls of the cell while Theta dusted himself down, his orange and scarlet robes still shrouded around him, but with a black, fowl smelling burn on the back, the site of the stun bolt that had stuck him. Braxiatel slid his nimble fingers into several holes in the wall, circles illuminated by a soft blue light. A door-sized portion of the wall slid away to reveal the corridors beyond.

"And how do you suppose we will escape, hm? No doubt that Drax's TARDIS is in lock down and Guards are swarming the streets and exits of the city?"

"We're going to steal a TARDIS."

The TARDIS repair shop was deserted, more or less. The only life in the cavernous halls were the grey cylindrical TARDISes themselves, humming with power and energy. Most often a TARDIS would take an interesting and exotic shape thanks to its inbuilt chameleon circuit. Even on Gallifrey, a TARDIS might decide to decorate itself with ornate golden arches and ruby red gemstones simply to blend in. But here, in the depths of the lower levels, a TARDIS would be locked into the manageable form of a bland grey cylinder.

The choices offered here to the enterprising thief were endless, a full roster of various types of outdated and decommissioned and broken and malfunctioning TARDISes, some as old as Type 32s and as new as the Type 76.

"Yes, this one should do," said Braxiatel as he stopped his brisk pace in front of one of the many TARDISes that were awaiting repairs. "A Type 51. It appears to be working fully, should get you were you want to go."

"Hm, I'm not too sure. The Type 51s had the horrible jolt as you passed every 100 years…"

"Theta, we don't have much time," Braxiatel said impatiently.

"No, no, it's important, I think," muttered Theta under his breath, his old mind racing wildly and his heart beating with a sense of adventure. "Now this one," he said, patting down the dusty grey walls of a TARDIS, "I like." It seemed to call out to him, reaching for him to steal her.

"The navigation system's malfunctioning," said Braxiatel as he leafed through the maintenance report that was lying on a work bench not too far away, his eyebrows rising as the list of faults grew with each passing page. "Among many, many other things."

"Yes," said Theta with glee, his eyes sparkling, "But I'll have much more fun."

Theta nodded to himself and opened the TARDIS door, the greyness revealing a clean white interior of the TARDIS console room, the off-green console sitting perfectly in the centre. A gust of clean, stale air rushed to great them, this TARDIS having been consigned to the workshop for a while longer than she deserved.

Theta walked in, taken aback slightly by it all. He had been inside TARDISes before, many a time for many a different reason. But it had been so long since he had been inside one that he felt… connected to, not since he had lost his own such a long time ago. He walked up to the console and put his old hand on the surface.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever known," he said in a whisper, his eyes twinkling in the simple majesty before him.

"It's a museum piece, Theta," Braxiatel said as he followed Theta inside, "A Type 40, but it will do for getting you away from here."

"She'll function fine, Brax."

Braxiatel sighed. "You do realise you'll be labelled as a renegade?" He began to check the TARDIS over, moving around Theta to have a look at the controls. "A rebel Time Lord, you won't be able to come back."

"I know that, but I'd rather you didn't remind me," he said, trying to mask the sudden sadness that was rising in him. "I'll be an exile. I won't even have a name."

"You are already an exile; your name was stricken from the records this morning. As far as the Lord President is concerned, you can't even be called Theta anymore."

"I suppose I'll have to take a name, then. Maybe I can do some good out of all this."

"No, you'll be keeping your head low and the adventures to a minimum.

"The man who makes people better…" Theta muttered to himself. "But, at least I'm not leaving much behind. Wait, no! Of course, Susan!" he exclaimed, "We can't leave her here! The Guard, or even the Agency, might find her."

He turned around to face Braxiatel, but something was pressing against his stomach, a cold sharpness piercing through the robes of the High Council which he wore. Theta looked down for the source and saw, clutched in his brother's hand, a staser.

"I am sorry," Braxiatel whispered, and there was a blast of hot energy. Theta collapsed to the ground, clutching in a scorch mark on his side. "Your regeneration should hide you from the Time Lords for a while, but perhaps not long enough," Braxiatel explained as he returned the pistol to the inside of his robes. He calmly walked around the TARDIS console and began plotting a course. "The regeneration won't be recorded in your biodata, the Agency can't use it to track you. Now, yes, Earth… a backwater little planet. It should be good enough. Let's see…"

"Su…san," managed Theta as he lay on the ground helpless to do anything.

"Earth, London, 1963 seems like a good enough date…"

Braxiatel engaged the dematerialisation sequence and the glass time rotor began to heave, the grinding of the TARDIS engines echoing in the empty room.

"Good luck," Braxiatel said to the now glowing form of his brother. The TARDIS began to fade away around him, leaving him in the empty workshop on Gallifrey surrounded by the empty TARDISes.


End file.
